


Beginnings

by SML8180



Series: Family Sticks Together [1]
Category: Markiplier-fandom, Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Advanced Technology, American Sign Language, And a Bad Father, Bim looks up to Wilford, Chronic Pain, Derek is a Bad Boss, Father Figures, Fear of Abandonment, Fear of Death, Fluff, Gotta Love Traveling, Headaches & Migraines, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Loss of Identity, Memory Loss, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Mild Language, Possible inaccuracies concerning how people get put on parole, Possible medical inaccuracies, Pre-Canon, Reunions, Selectively Mute Child, Show Business, Starting Over, Tags May Change, herbal medicine, implied alcohol consumption, injury mentions, mentions of medical procedures, mostly - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-02
Updated: 2020-04-16
Packaged: 2021-02-27 11:54:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 16
Words: 13,823
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22076533
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SML8180/pseuds/SML8180
Summary: With so many different personalities within the manor, the question can arise of just how they all ended up under one roof.Some were brought by opportunity, some by tragedy, some by fate.Every story starts somewhere, after all.
Series: Family Sticks Together [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1589101
Comments: 33
Kudos: 108





	1. The Jim Twins

The twins had been given one last chance by the studio they were working for. One last chance to bring in a good story, or they would be out of the job. They knew they couldn’t mess this one up; there was too much riding on this one.

Things were chaotic at the start. Supposedly, there had been some sort of murder at a manor where a well known actor resided. That was all the information they had; nothing on who was killed, how they died, or anything else that was going on. But, it was enough for them to get their equipment into the car and make their way up to the manor.

Everything fell into chaos from there.

Time didn’t seem right in that house, nor on the grounds; what should have been hours felt like minutes, what should have been minutes felt like mere seconds, and things seemed to jump around and didn’t flow properly. They witnessed things they couldn’t explain, they contacted what seemed to be _demons_ , and that was hardly half of it. When they felt they’d gotten enough footage to work with, and found that there didn’t seem to be anybody really left in the manor, they tried to make their way back to the car they had arrived in, only to find that it wouldn’t start.

They were stranded at the manor.

Then, it started to snow.

The snow didn’t start gently, either. It started suddenly, and it started hard. Both twins were completely covered in snow and shivering by the time they got back to the manor to find nobody there. The manor was empty and silent, and it frightened them; there had always been _someone_ around, but now, it was just them.

A few days went by, and the twins were still figuring out what to do. The manor’s phone lines had been cut, and they were practically snowed in; they were on their own. Luckily, there was still food in the kitchen, and wood had been brought in to build fires in the fireplaces. They had what they needed to survive until they were able to get help.

Then, through another flurry of snow, came a third man.

They recognized the man, but there was something off. He was grey, and there were red and blue doubles shimmering beside him, while wisps of black curled in the air and trailed behind him. When they first encountered him, he’d just come in through the front door of the manor, covered in snow and shivering in the tattered suit he wore. They kept out of sight as he stalked up the stairs, returning later in a suit that didn’t quite seem to fit correctly, though it was better than nothing at the moment.

“Stay low, Jim,” one of the twins ordered, pushing down on his brother’s shoulder as he spotted the suit-wearing man coming into the living area.

“I know you’re here,” the man stated, his voice holding an odd echo as he spoke over the ringing sound that seemed to follow him. “I have no intention of harming you.”

The twins looked at one another, before one stepped out, holding his microphone tightly in his right hand, and holding his brother’s hand in the other, tugging him along as he followed with his camera perched on his left shoulder, his left hand keeping it steady.

“I’ve been seeing two of you, then,” the grey man mused.

“My name is Jim,” stated the brother with the microphone. “This is my brother, Jim.”

“We’re twins,” the second Jim stated.

“Well, if you’re going to be staying here, we’ll need a way to tell you two apart.”

“We can already tell each other apart,” the first Jim stated.

“I can’t.”

“You’ll have to learn,” replied the second Jim.

“What do you do?”

“I’m, um, I _was_ a reporter. Jim was my cameraman,” the first Jim told the grey man.

“Well, then for the sake of keeping track of you,” the grey man began, “I’ll call you RJ,” he determined, motioning to the first Jim, “And you CJ,” he finished, motioning to the second Jim. “Will that be alright?”

The twins paused for a moment, whispering to one another in a rapid manner than the grey man couldn’t keep track of, before they finally turned back to him, nodding.

“What should we call you?” CJ questioned, tilting his head a bit in curiosity.

The grey man seemed to pause at the question, as if he wasn’t sure how to respond. After a moment of silence, he finally replied, “For now, call me D.”


	2. Darkiplier

After pushing the spirit of the District Attorney out of their own body and into the mirror that proceeded to crack, he left the manor. The nameless fusion of Damien, Celine, and the entity that had inhabited the manor walked out, simply going out to roam the grounds for however long it took to pull his thoughts together.

He had no idea how long he’d been gone. All he knew was that it had snowed while he was gone, and it had felt like he was gone for a _long_ time, long enough to have a full beard coming in. He entered the manor again, his suit tattered and feeling exhausted as his body protested every movement as it had every second while he was away. It shouldn’t have been a surprise; the D.A _had_ been shot by the Colonel and fallen from the third floor railing. At the very least, they had a bullet wound to the chest, a broken neck, and a dislocated left shoulder; and he couldn’t help but notice that all the walking and cold seemed to be aggravating something in his left knee.

Then, he’d met the twins.

He’d known _someone_ was running around the manor, but he hadn’t expected it to be _two_ people. When he met them, he’d given them nicknames in order to keep them straight in his head. When they asked for his name, he paused.

He wasn’t Damien, or Celine, or the D.A, or the entity that had inhabited the manor. He didn’t _have_ a name. For the time being, he settled on D, to at least have something to go by. It wouldn’t be permanent, though he did like the idea of something starting with D.

As time went by, things started to settle out. RJ and CJ, the two men he had met early on, had taken to living in the manor with him, having apparently been at the manor that night for a story that would save their jobs, but when they weren’t able to get back to the studio, they were sure they’d have been fired, so they simply remained. The three of them got along, and they fell into a routine quickly, though one thing that seemed to bring up any issues was the dark mist that followed D around everywhere he went.

The aura had a mind of its own, causing a ringing that surrounded D, and often messing with anything it could get at. The wisps of black tugged at the buttons on D’s clothing, tried to mess around with the twin’s equipment, knocking things off shelves, counters, and tables, and generally being an annoyance that seemed to particularly enjoy playing with the twins’ - and to a _slightly_ lesser extent, D’s - hair, and generally startling D.

Of course, with their usual habit of recording just about anything that happened when they had the chance, the twins couldn’t help but record D’s struggles to get used to his mischievous aura. D struggled to get used to things; his emotions would often get the best of him, resulting in slamming doors, fits of crying or anger, while the ringing that followed him everywhere picked up in pitch and volume. His aura would lash out at the same time, leaving gashes in the walls and even leaving marks on D’s body, along with the occasional cut or bruise left on one twin or the other.

After some time, D was starting to take over running the manor. The twins helped him to fix up the space, claiming one of the rooms as their own, rearranging the furniture and bringing a second bed into the space so that they would be together. D claimed one of the other bedrooms for himself, and took up residence in a second as his office. The days went by, turning into weeks, then months, which then turned to years, and those years turned to decades. D kept to his office, mostly, slowly gaining control over his aura and trying to track down those who had been in the house that night in 1925.

He found records of the Chef going back to his family, starting a restaurant in Los Angeles, the groundskeeper went to work at a park a few cities away, and Benjamin, the manor’s butler, found work with a new employer in the city. He couldn’t find the detective, Abe, nor could he find William. He remembered Abe being shot, but he knew his body hadn’t been anywhere within the manor when he made his rounds, and he certainly hadn’t found him anywhere on the grounds, or seen him leave. He could recall William leaving the manor, but he hadn’t seen the man since.

Finally, nearly 45 years after that fateful night, D had gotten a lead on William. Apparently, he was now going by Wilford, and he had every intention of tracking him down, even if just to talk to him again for a single night.

“Going out, D?” RJ asked, spotting the grey man coming down the steps in a white suit, adjusting his collar as he went, relying on the handrail to help him.

“Yes. I hope I can trust you two to not burn the manor down while I’m gone,” he mused. “I’ll only be out for a few hours, anyways.”

“You got it, D,” CJ confirmed, slinging an arm over RJ’s shoulders.

“And, I didn’t mention this earlier, but I’ve finally decided on a name to officially go by.”

“What is it?”

“Dark,” the way he said it sent a shiver up his spine. He liked the way it sounded, the way it felt; it just _fit_ . Dark tore a hole in reality, through the _Void_ , as he had been calling it, and stepped through, hardly waiting to see the twins’ reaction to his new name. He had an old friend to find, after all.


	3. Wilford Warfstache

He couldn’t remember much, really. Bits and pieces would flash through his mind, but be gone before he could grasp them.

He met Dark in 1970, at a nightclub he’d become quite the fan of. He’d been at the bar, a cane propped up beside him as he waited on the bartender. With his white suit causing him to stand out among all the other patrons, how could he  _ not  _ be attracted to the man?

“A fine evening, isn’t it?” Wilford opened, slipping into the seat beside the white-suited man.

“It is,” the man in white confirmed.

“Could I buy you a drink? Your choice.”

“I’d like that. A simple Old Fashioned would be nice, tonight.”

Wilford couldn’t help but smile, whistling to grab the attention of the bartender. “One Old Fashioned and one martini over here,” he told them, getting a nod in response before he turned back to the man he’d just met. “What’s your name?”

“Call me Dark,” the man he was speaking to introduced. It was an odd name, especially for someone wearing white, but who was he to judge?

“Wilford Warfstache,” Wil replied, offering Dark his hand to shake. He smiled as the gesture was accepted.

Once their drinks arrived, the two got to talking with one another. Wilford couldn’t help but quickly fall for the man. He was calm and well spoken, something that meshed well with his own, more chaotic personality. The night seemed to pass too quickly, though they exchanged numbers, and he walked Dark out of the club, helping the man through the crowd so that his cane wouldn’t be knocked out from under him.

He and Dark met up fairly regularly after that. It started as a friendship, but it was clear to Wilford that Dark wanted it to be something more, even if the man didn’t say so out loud. Over the years, they went from the occasional friendly lunch to going to movies together, with the occasional romantic dinner or stroll through the park thrown in. They took things slow and easy, finding out more about one another as time went on.

It didn’t come as a surprise when Dark finally asked if Wilford wanted to move in with him. He’d been to the manor, and knew that there was plenty of space; it wouldn’t be crowded in the slightest, even with the twins around. Wil didn’t hesitate for a second before agreeing.

He didn’t really have much that he needed to move. He knew he had abilities most didn’t, and though he usually hid them when he could, he used them to his advantage. Dark and the twins helped him move his things in, a task made easy with Dark’s own unearthly abilities. Despite the fact that he had been to the manor several times, the beautiful home still took Wil’s breath away, and he could hardly believe that it wasn’t just a visit this time. He was  _ home _ .


	4. King of the Squirrels

He had  _ no idea  _ where he was, though it didn’t really bother him all that much. He needed to get out, to get away from everything. He needed a fresh start. So, he’d packed up his camper and left. The little van broke down at some point along the way, and there was nothing the shop would be able to do to fix it, so he simply handed over the information, packed what he could into his trail bag, and continued on foot.

He’d found a trailhead and simply decided to follow it and see where it took him. It pleased him to find a large number of squirrels along his route, and it was amusing that they seemed to be following him. He chittered along with them, chuckling as one seemed to like him enough to climb up his leg and body to perch on his shoulder.

“What am I, King of the Squirrels?” he joked as he kept walking.

He didn’t know how long it had been, but he knew it was getting  _ cold _ . It had been late autumn when he’d started out, but still fairly nice. Now, it was getting to be December, and snow was falling, and it was only getting colder with each passing day.

One day, he came across an old cabin. It was clearly abandoned, with dirty windows and no sign of anyone around. After making sure that there was nobody to bother, the man made his way inside; it wasn’t much, but it would serve to keep him from freezing until the new year started.

He waited until most of January had gone by, setting out again on the 23rd. It was slowly warming up, and the snow was gradually melting, making it easier for him to make his way around. Hours after he had started walking again, he came across a manor. It looked old, but fairly well cared for, if the shoveled walkways were anything to go off of. He knew it was getting late, and there was no doubt he’d need a place to stay for the night, but he didn’t want to just set up camp on someone else’s property. After debating his options for a few moments, he decided to approach the door, ringing the doorbell and simply waiting.

The door opened a moment later, a man in a black suit standing on the other side. “Hello?”

“Hello, um, I know this is a bit odd, but, I’m a bit of a nomad, you see, and I was wondering if you had a room I could stay in? Just for tonight, and I’ll be out of your hair. I won’t cause any trouble, you’ll hardly know I’m even here,” the backpacker rambled. He’d never been good with words, and after weeks of not having any human contact, he was finding it difficult to speak with someone. That wasn’t even taking into consideration the odd aura that seemed to surround the stranger in front of him.

“Of course,” the suit-wearing man replied, stepping aside to let the stranger in. “I assume the squirrel is yours?”

“Huh? Oh, yeah. He’s taken a liking to me, I guess. They kind of just follow me around, it’s like they think I’m their king or something.”

“The King of the Squirrels. It has a bit of a ring to it, doesn’t it?”

“It kind of does, I guess.”

“Well,  _ King _ , follow me. I’ll introduce you to the others, and show you to your room.”

“Others?”

“You’ll see. There are four of us here, currently.”

King followed the suited man into the manor, taking in the elegant design. He was introduced to the twins, RJ and CJ, along with Wilford, and learned that the man he was following went by Dark. Although he had only planned on staying for the night, King felt that he somehow belonged at the manor, and when he expressed this to Dark, he learned that it was as if the manor had been expecting him to come, itself. It didn’t take long for them to decide that he would be staying, adding another member to their little family.


	5. The Author

He had no clue how he ended up at the end of the stone pathway that lead up to the manor, but he wasn’t about to question it. He simply walked up to the door and rang the doorbell, taking in the view of the grounds as he waited.

“Hello?” a voice called as the door opened. The man on the other side was a man dressed in dark brown pants, a yellow shirt, pink suspenders with a matching bowtie, and a pink mustache.

“Hello,” came his own reply. “I’m an author, though, I suppose you could say I am  _ The  _ Author.”

“Ah! You must be the new one Dark was expecting,” the pink man interjected, ushering the Author inside. “Dark! He’s here!”

The Author took in the entryway, waiting on whoever Dark was to come in. He heard a faint ringing, and turned to find a man in a black suit walking in from one of the hallways. He couldn’t help but notice the black mist that seemed to surround the man, and the shimmering red and blue that seemed to glitch around his body like an outline of sorts.

“You must be the Author,” the suited man mused, his voice holding an odd echo. “It’s a pleasure, I am Dark.”

“A pleasure,” Author bluntly replied.

“Wilford can show you to your room. King and the twins should be around somewhere; you’ll run into them in time, I’m sure.”

The man with the pink mustache, whom the Author could only assume was Wilford, motioned for him to follow. He was lead up the stairs, and down the hall to a simple door on the right-hand side of the hallway.

“Get yourself settled in, and feel free to look around a bit,” Wilford instructed him, before leaving back down the hall, leaving the Author to his own devices.

He wasn’t in the manor for long. Following his experimenting with just what he could do using his abilities, despite his best efforts to avoid suspicion, Dark ruled that the Author was to leave the manor and find someplace else to stay. The twins and King could hardly look at him as he left, barely hiding the smirk that crossed his face. It didn’t matter that he was being kicked out; being away from the others would make it easier in the long run to do as he pleased.

The Author followed an overgrown path in the woods by the manor, eventually stumbling across a small abandoned cabin. Upon finding that there was nobody around, he decided to claim the little place as his own. With a little work, he could make it his own.


	6. Dr. Iplier

Edward Iplier didn’t think his luck could get any worse.

The practice where he had been employed as a physician had shut down, he’d been evicted from his apartment, and his significant other had broken off their relationship. His entire world was falling apart around him.

The doctor sat in the crappy motel room he was staying in, looking through the paper for any possible housing or job listings he could look into. He was about to give up for the day when he spotted a small ad tucked towards the bottom of the page.

“ _ Looking to employ an in-house physician. Proof of education required. Room and board included, _ ” he read aloud. The short ad almost seemed too good to be true as he read it over again. Even if it was, he didn’t exactly have anything to lose, and he knew he’d be qualified if they were looking for someone to act as a GP; he’d gone through courses for emergency medicine, spent a couple of years working as an EMT before working in an ER for a bit, before finally going to work for a small family practice and putting his extra degree for pediatric medicine to use. He had a shot, so long as this wasn’t some kind of scam.

So, he folded up the paper, double checked that he had all his things, checked out of the motel, got in his car, and started to head to the address that had been in the ad. He eventually pulled up to a large manor, and upon shutting down the engine to his car, he took a moment to take in the sight of the beautiful home. It was late October, which resulted in the trees being mostly bare, with just a few leaves holding onto the branches, and burning bush shrubs all had on their bright red coats for the cold months. The sight was an odd mix of eerie and beautiful to the doctor.

Edward sighed, pulling a briefcase from the floor of the back seat of his car. He double checked that everything he’d need was there before he shut the lid and latched it. The doctor stepped out of the car and made his way to the door of the manor, taking in the stonework as he rang the doorbell and waited for an answer.

“Hello?” a man in khaki pants and a dark blue shirt answered the door, tilting his head to one side in curiosity.

“Hello,” Edward replied. “My name is Edward Iplier, I’m here concerning the ad you had in the paper?”

“The ad?” the man on the other side of the door sounded a bit confused. “One minute,” he requested, closing the door most of the way, though Edward could still hear him calling out to another person inside. After a moment, he opened the door again, and the doctor blinked for a moment, suddenly seeing what almost seemed like a copy of the man who had originally answered the door, though there were some slight differences. The new man before him wore a lighter blue shirt, and had his hair brushed to the right side of his head. The new person looked him over for a moment, before nodding to the first and stepping back. “Come in,” the man in dark blue insisted, stepping aside to let the doctor in.

“Dark! There’s a doctor here for you!” the man in dark blue called out, only to be punched in the shoulder by the man in light blue.

“Knock it off, Jim. Dark said not to be loud, he’s got a headache,” the man in light blue chastised.

“Sorry, Jim.”

“You’re  _ both _ named Jim?” Edward didn’t realize he’d asked the question out loud until he heard a quiet laugh come from the pair.

“Yep!” both men replied.

“I’m RJ, this is my brother, CJ,” the Jim in light blue stated, motioning to his brother.

“Brothers, alright. Judging by the similarities, I’m willing to guess you two are twins?”

“Mm-hm!” CJ hummed, nodding.

“What’s with all the noise down here?” a new voice met Dr. Iplier, drawing his attention to the stairs as a man in light brown pants and a pale pink shirt came down from the second floor. “Dark’s trying to rest; his head’s killing him,” he stated, before his gaze landed on the stranger standing by the door. “Oh, hello.”

“Hello,” Dr. Iplier shifted a bit where he stood. “Is something wrong with someone else in the house? I am a doctor, I might be able to help,” he offered.

“A doctor? You must be here because of Darky’s ad,” the pink man mused.

“I am,” Edward replied, undoing the latches on his briefcase and pulling out the ad and a copy of his medical degree, handing them over to the man in pink.

“Hmm… Everything looks legitimate,” the man mumbled, looking over the document in his hands. “I’ll bring you up to Dark. But be quiet; he says noise makes it worse.”

Dr. Iplier nodded, following the man up the stairs. He was lead to one of the bedrooms, and ushered quietly inside. A high pitched ringing filled the room, and it was dark; the heavy black curtains were drawn over the windows and the lights were all off, except for a small, dim light on the nightstand.

“Dark,” the pink man whispered, approaching the bed. “There’s a doctor here responding to your ad.”

“Hmm…?” came a quietly hummed response. The figure on the bed, covered with the black and pink comforter shifted, turning over to look towards Dr. Iplier. “You’re a doctor…?”

“I am,” Edward replied, keeping his voice quiet as he stepped closer, kneeling beside the bed. “I hear you’ve got a headache. Is there anything else you can tell me?”

“Light and noise make it worse, ‘m sick to my stomach…” the man Edward assumed was Dark told him, mumbling a bit.

“How long has this been going on?”

“Most of the day…”

“Have you tried any usual pain relievers?”

“They don’t do anything…”

Edward nodded, thinking over what he’d been told and watching as Dark pulled one of the pillows over his head. “This all sounds like you’re battling a migraine,” he finally stated. “I usually suggest that natural treatments be tried first, before putting someone on a medication. For right now, if anyone in the house has any lavender oil, we might be able to ease your symptoms.”

The man in pink snapped his fingers, and suddenly had a small vial of lavender oil in his hand. Edward stared for a second, but decided not to question what he’d done. He simply took the vial and pulled a cotton ball from a small kit in his briefcase. After dabbing a bit of the oil onto the cotton ball, he got Dark to remove the pillow from his head, and applied the oil to his temples. “You should notice a difference in about 15 to 20 minutes. I’ll come in then and check up on you, alright?”

“Thank you… Wil, show him to his room, please…” Dark mumbled, before turning over under the covers again, facing away from the door as Edward was lead out.

“We’ve got a room for you, and a space that should serve as a nice little office downstairs,” Wil told him, leading the doctor down the hall to a door on the left hand side. “This’ll be your room, if you want to bring your things inside, and then I’ll show you your office.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Edward stated, setting his briefcase on the desk that was in the room. With help from the twins, he brought his things inside and set them in his room for the time being. Then, Wilford showed him to his office.

Stepping into the office reminded Edward of the first time he’d entered his old practice. The space was fairly small, but it was set up well. There was a desk at one end, and two beds set up beside one another, with plenty of cabinet and counter space all around. Overall, it was fairly cozy, if he were being honest.

“When Dark’s feeling better, he can get you the information for the local hospital. They’ve been looking for someone to fill a space in their emergency room, if I remember right,” Wil told him.

“Alright. Thank you, so much. I really needed this,” Edward stated, unable to find the words to properly thank the man before him.

“Welcome to the manor, Dr. Iplier,” Wil responded with a smile, before leaving the doctor to settle in.

Edward looked around the office, smiling to himself. Finally, his luck was starting to turn around.


	7. The Host

The last thing he remembered was stumbling through what was likely the forest that surrounded his cabin, supported by that new Ego, the doctor, if he was correct. None of that mattered now, though. He was waking up, feeling a surge of pain in his head, near his eyes.

Or rather, near where his eyes should have been.

He could faintly remember it, now. He’d removed his own eyes with his bare hands.

“You’re awake, that’s good. I was starting to worry,” a voice spoke up, breaking through his racing thoughts. “I need to change your bandages, alright? Can’t have you getting an infection.”

He didn’t say anything; he simply let the doctor do his job, unwrapping the bandages from around his head and cleaning his face and the empty sockets where his golden eyes had once been. The fresh bandages were oddly comforting, if he were to be completely honest. He could hear the doctor moving around, most likely cleaning up.

“I’m going to go get you something to eat, alright? I won’t be gone long,” he heard the doctor state, and he gave a small nod before listening to the man’s footsteps fade away.

He wasn’t the Author anymore, he didn’t  _ want _ to be the Author anymore. That brought up a new question; if he wasn’t the Author, then who  _ was _ he?

It would take him weeks to figure out the answer to that question. He toyed around with various names to call himself, dabbled with his new abilities, finding out what he could do now. He was more powerful than he once was. The Author needed a pen and paper in order to manipulate the world around him,  _ he  _ only needed his voice to do the same. He had visions of the future, something the Author had only on rare occasions. Even his own aura felt different.

During that time of transition, the others seemed wary around him. He couldn’t blame them. He still looked very much like the Author they’d once known and come to fear. They slowly warmed up to him, though, as Christmas drew near. By the time the new year was approaching, he’d settled on a new appearance, and a new name.

On New Year’s Day, he stepped out of Dr. Iplier’s office, looking much different than he once had. He wore dark brown slacks and black boots, a white dress shirt, and a tan trench coat. His hair was brushed back away from his face, keeping it out of the way of the bandages that covered the empty sockets where his eyes once were, the dark hair broken up by a bright blonde streak on the left side. He was walking with an easy confidence, and going by a new name. He wasn’t the Author anymore.

He was  _ The Host. _


	8. The Silver Shepherd

Silver knew he was hurt, he knew he needed to get help. He also knew he was too far from the hospital to make it on his own in this condition. Spotting a manor below him, he decided that was his best bet. They could call for help, he could rest for a bit.

When he landed on the ground, he rang the doorbell, grasping his side. He didn’t dare look at his gloves, he knew they’d be stained with red. The door opened not long after he fell to his knees, too weak and dizzy to stand on his own.

“Hello? Oh my god, Dr. Iplier! I need some help over here!”

Silver had no idea who was talking, he couldn’t look up at them, moving his head just made the world spin around him. “I need… A doctor…” he managed to mumble, not knowing if he was being loud enough to be heard.

“You’re going to be okay,” the stranger who had answered the door told him, wrapping one of his arms around Silver’s torso and draping Silver’s arm over his shoulders, bringing him inside. The hero felt a second person take hold of him, as he was carried inside. The world faded to black before he knew where they were taking him.

When Silver woke up, he was initially blinded by bright lights. He looked around, and tried to sit up, though he drew in a gasp, wincing as he felt a sharp pain in his left side.

“Ah ah, you lay back down. You were in pretty rough shape when you got here, and you’re not a lot better right now,” a voice told him. When he turned his head, he spotted a doctor wearing blue scrubs, a white coat, and a head mirror by the side of his bed.

“Where am I…?” Silver asked, still trying to get his bearings.

“You’re in my office,” the doctor replied. “We would’ve called an ambulance, but you were nowhere near stable enough for that wait. Luckily, I had everything I needed to treat you here. You’ve got signs of what could be a mild concussion, and you had a good 2.5 inch gash in your left side which I had to close up with 20 stitches. Those should come out in 7 to 10 days, but I would take it easy for a couple weeks before trying to do anything too strenuous.”

“Okay… Um, thanks, doc,” Silver stammered. He was still out of it, between the fact he was likely on painkillers and the concussion, it wasn’t much of a surprise.

“I’d recommend you stay here for at least the rest of the day, if possible, just so I can keep an eye on you.”

“I can do that,” Silver told the doctor. “Nobody’s waiting up for me, anyways.”

“No family?”

“I had a girlfriend, but she broke off our relationship.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

“Thanks.”

The doctor went to say something again, though he was interrupted by a knock at the office door, followed by a voice coming from the other side. “Dr. Iplier? The Host could use some medical assistance…”

“I’ll just be a minute,” the doctor told Silver, before going to the door. He opened it up to reveal the man on the other side, Host, he’d said his name was? His face had trails of blood staining it, and he had bloody bandages over his eyes.

“Again, Host? Come sit down, let’s get you taken care of,” Dr. Iplier stated, ushering the bleeding man into the room and shutting the door.

Silver watched as Dr. Iplier sat the Host down in a chair near the sink, the bleeding man facing away from his bed. He decided to simply look around the room as the doctor worked, simply listening to the two talk to one another.

“This is him,” the Host stated.

“This guy? He’s the one you Saw?”

“Yes. The Host is sure of it.”

“We’ll have to tell Dark.”

“Darkiplier is already on his way here from his office. The Host already informed him.”

“How’s King holding up? He was pretty shaken after finding him.”

“King of the Squirrels is doing fine. He seems to have recovered from his shock.”

“That’s good, I was worried.”

Silver silently listened to Dr. Iplier and Host talk, not knowing exactly what they meant by most of what they were saying, though he assumed they were talking about him at the start. He heard Host thank the doctor before leaving the room, and Silver watched as he walked out.

“Let’s get you sitting up a bit. Dark’s on his way, and he might bring you something to eat. If he doesn’t, I’ll go and get you something. Do you have any allergies?” Dr. Iplier informed him, coming to the hero’s side to help him sit up.

“I can’t have shellfish, but that’s it, as far as I know,” Silver told him.

“Alright, I’ll get that written down, then,” the doctor replied, heading over to his desk to jot down the information. While Dr. Iplier was at his desk, there were a couple of knocks at the door, before it started to open.

“Dr. Iplier?” an echoing voice addressed. “Host told me that the new one was here.”

“He is,” Dr. Iplier answered.

The man with the echoing voice stepped into the room. He wore a black suit, and had a red and blue shimmer around him, while black mist trailed behind him as he moved. Dr. Iplier excused himself, and left the room, going to get Silver something to eat, leaving Silver alone with the grey man.

“You must be The Silver Shepherd,” the man addressed, pulling a chair over to the side of the bed and taking a seat.

“I am,” Silver responded.

“My name is Dark,” the suited man told him. “I’m sure you have questions, and those will all be answered in time. For now, I want to say that we have space here for you, should you desire to stay here.”

“What? I mean, I’d consider it, my Ex kicked me out, so I don’t exactly have a place right now, but, this is a lot,” Silver knew he was rambling a bit, and quickly cut himself off from continuing.

“We know. You see, the Host has some very  _ specific _ abilities, including the ability to see into the future. He knew you would be here, that you are one of us.”

“What do you mean?”

“We still aren’t fully sure, ourselves,” Dark admitted. “We have taken to calling ourselves  _ Egos _ . It’s complicated, and we still don’t know how to fully explain it. All we are certain of is that we all look alike, we sound alike, and we feel it may be best for us to all stick together.”

“Well… I guess that makes sense. As much sense as it could, anyways,” Silver stated. “I don’t really have anywhere to go, so, I guess it couldn’t hurt to stay.”

“I was hoping you would say that,” Dark replied, standing up once again as Dr. Iplier returned with something for Silver to eat. “I’ll leave you to rest, then. Welcome to the manor, Silver.”


	9. Google

There were error codes streaming across Google’s vision. His eyes were shut, and all he saw was line upon line of error messages. He could feel that he was being moved, but he was set to a sort of stand-by mode, which prevented him from opening his eyes and finding out what was going on.

“Wil, what the  _ hell _ did you drag home this time?”

“Host said there was another one, Dark! The descriptions match!”

“This is the new Ego. The Host is sure of it.”

Google had no idea what was going on, but he knew it was safe to assume that the three men who were speaking were talking about him. A few more moments of the three men bickering went by, and Google was officially activated. He opened his eyes, taking in the faces of the three men; one with a pink mustache, one with bandages over his eyes, and one with grey skin and a visible aura around him.

“Hello,” Google simply stated.

“Okay, we have an android, now. Fantastic,” the grey man mumbled, crossing his arms over his chest.

“What’s going on in here?” a new voice joined the conversation. Google turned his head, spotting a man wearing jeans, a red T-shirt, cape, and crown.

“Host and I found the new Ego!” the mustached man exclaimed.

“Isn’t that one of those prototype Google IRL things?” the man in red questioned.

“I am,” Google interjected. “I am the first version of Google I-I-IRL.” Did his voice just glitch? He would need to look into that.

“Well, at least it works,” the man in black stated. “What is your purpose?”

“My-y-y primary objective is to answer questions a-a-as quickly as possible; second-d-dary objective is to de-destroy mankind.”

“That’s concerning,” the man in red mumbled.

Google watched as the men began to bicker once again, trying to figure out what they should do with him. The pink man and the man with bandages over his eyes seemed to insist he stay, while the men in red and black didn’t seem so sure. After a few moments of the men going back and forth, they seemed to make their decision; they would keep him around.

The android followed the man sporting a pink mustache, whom he’d logged as being called “Wilford”, out of the room. He was lead up the stairs and down a hall, to a room on the left hand side of the hallway, passing a man wearing black and white coming out of a room on the right hand side.

“It’s a little small, but the manor knows best,” Wilford told him. “There should be an office for you downstairs, too. Not sure where it might’ve popped up, but I’m sure you’ll find it! Settle in, explore, do whatever.”

“I must be allowed a-a-admin permissions in order to opera-a-ate autonomously,” Google stated, a text box reading  _ Grant Admin Permissions: Okay/Cancel  _ popped up in front of his chest.

“Well, I suppose. If that’s what you need to go around on your own, so be it,” Wilford reasoned, tapping the “Okay” option before simply walking away, humming.

Google watched as Wilford left, smirking. He’d lay low for now, biding his time, figuring out what was causing him to glitch whenever he spoke. He would wait for the perfect time to complete his objective.


	10. Bim Trimmer

Bim still couldn’t believe his show had been canceled. He’d thought  _ Hire My Ass _ would be a hit and at least get a second season. Unfortunately, it ended up canceled after the first episode. All that time spent recording the rest of the season, utterly wasted. On top of the cancellation of his show, he’d gotten a call from the studio that he was being let go. His other show had wrapped its final season, and  _ Hire My Ass  _ wasn’t being picked up; they didn’t need him around anymore.

He decided to go out for a run, blow off some steam before it got too dark out. With it being December, it got dark early, but Bim didn’t want to run on his treadmill; he needed fresh air. So, the TV personality pulled on his cold weather running gear; socks intended for cold weather, thermal leggings, running shoes, ColdGear hoodie, along with his wireless earbuds and purple beanie, turning on his music and tucking his phone into his pocket, he pulled on his gloves and reflective vest as he made his way out; he  _ really _ didn’t want to be nearly hit by a car again.

Bim set out on a route he’d run a number of times. It was an easy path, one he didn’t really need to think about. He kept track of his breathing as he went, pacing himself as he usually did. The man wasn’t a marathon runner, not by a long shot, but he’d dipped his toes into the competitive world over the past year, getting a couple of triathlons under his belt. In all honesty though, he preferred to run alone; just him, his music, and the feel of the ground under his feet.

The defunct game show host slowed down a bit, deciding to walk for a few minutes in order to catch his breath; this run was to blow off steam, after all, it wasn’t for his workout, he didn’t need to push himself. His usual turning point was just beyond the old manor; Bim figured he’d walk to the manor, then pick up to a jog again once he got there, keeping a brisk pace all the way home. That  _ was _ his plan, until he actually got to the end of the driveway that lead up to the manor.

When he got to the manor’s driveway, he found that there was a car stuck there. The driver had clearly been turning into the driveway, and gotten stuck in the ice and snow that had been pushed off to the side of the road by a plow. There was someone working to dig the car out, and clearly having a time of it from what Bim could see. After checking the time on his phone, he figured he had enough time to be a decent person and help the man. Pausing his music, he approached, removing one of his earbuds.

“Hey, need a hand?” he offered, catching the attention of the man who was shoveling.

“I’d appreciate that,” the man replied, turning to face Bim. Aside from the pink jacket he was wearing, Bim noticed that the man had a pink mustache, as well, which he found oddly familiar. “You can take this one, I’ll run up and get a spare from the garage,” he offered, handing Bim the shovel he’d been using.

“Got it,” Bim nodded, taking the shovel. He watched as the man jogged up the driveway to the garage, before he started to shovel, looking up when he heard the man return and begin to shovel on the other side of the car. “You know, you look familiar.”

“Well, I did host  _ Spin It Solve It _ back in the day,” the mustached man stated. “And I’m the host of  _ Warfstache Tonight _ .”

Bim stopped and stared at the man, opening and closing his mouth a few times in surprise. “ _ You’re  _ Wilford Warfstache?!” he exclaimed, unable to hide his shock.

“That’s my name! You’re a fan?”

“A fan? Of course!  _ Spin It  _ is what originally inspired me to pitch  _ Hire My Ass _ ! But uh, the pilot didn’t go too well…” Bim admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. “Canceled after a single episode. That’s gotta be some kind of record.”

“I saw that! I thought it was pretty good,” Wilford assured him. “If you’re looking for a show to run, my studio’s looking to bring  _ Spin It _ back. It’ll be under a new name, but they’re looking to revive it. I’m too busy with my show, so they’re looking for a new host.”

“Do you think I could apply? My old studio had no use for me, so my contract didn’t get renewed.”

“Once we get this done, I’ll get you the papers and contact info. I’ll even put in a good word for you. You’ve got a good foundation to work with, but you still have a few things to learn about being a good show host.”

“I’m willing to learn, if you’re willing to teach.”

“I was just about to offer.”

The pair laughed, and finished digging the car out of the snow. Wilford drove the car up the driveway and parked it in the garage, before leading Bim inside. He got Bim all the information he needed, even helping the younger man fill everything in so that the application was as good as it could be.

A few days later, Bim got a call from Wilford, and learned that he got the position. They worked out that Bim really wouldn’t have much time before he’d need to record the pilot for the show, and so they determined that he should move into the manor. Bim found that he fit in fairly well among the rest of the eccentric personalities in the home, much to his relief. From the moment he stepped into the manor, it felt like he was home.


	11. Ed Edgar

He knew he shouldn’t have let the deal go through with this guy. Sure, Fells had passed all their background checks, but Ed still had an odd feeling about things when he signed the paperwork and took that little girl home with him.

That had been a year ago.

He had just gotten a call from that girl. She sounded scared and confused over the phone.

Ed was dealing with this one on his own.

He pulled on his hat as he hurried around his small home, gathering together a few things as he went; a blanket out of the closet, a bottle of water from the pack he’d just opened earlier that day, one of those single serving boxes of cereal he kept in the house in case he was running late, they all got bundled together as he hurried out the door, holstering his gun at his hip and grabbing the keys to his truck on the way out.

Ed arrived at the home, practically fuming. The place was small, but on the outside it looked nice. He got out of the truck, debating for a second as to whether or not he should throw on his dark glasses; he decided to put them on, pushing them up the bridge of his nose as he shut the door of the truck.

He’d barely taken five steps when suddenly, there was someone in a black and white suit and mask in front of him.

“Stop right there!” the masked man ordered.

“Who the hell’re you?!” Ed questioned, attempting to step around the man, only for the other to step in his path again.

“You won’t be going anywhere near that house! The authorities are on their way, and we know what you’ve been up to, Packer!”

“Who?” Ed didn’t recognize the name. “Look, I’m just here to sort something out about a kid, I don’t know who the  _ hell _ you think I am, but I  _ know _ I’m not them.”

“Packer doesn’t ring a bell, huh?” the masked stranger questioned. “Maybe I should call you by your alias, then,  _ Richard Fells _ .”

“I’m not Fells!”

With the commotion going on between them, neither one of the men noticed the shouting going on inside the home, nor did they notice the door opening. None of that caught their attention as sirens and lights made their way towards them. What  _ did  _ catch their attention was the child pushing her way passed the masked man and practically clinging to Ed.

“Alyx, Alyx, it’s okay, honey, it’s alright,” Ed murmured, kneeling down to the girl’s level and holding her close. Upon hearing shouts from the home, he stood back up, stepping around the girl to get her behind him.

“What the…?”

“ _ That _ is Fells,” Ed spat.

“You take the kid, I’ll handle him.”

“On it.”

Ed didn’t even know who this guy was, but he felt like he could trust him. He watched as the masked man approached Fells, before turning and picking Alyx up, bringing her over to his truck. The man opened the passenger side door, moving the things that were on the seat before lifting the girl into the truck, wrapping her up in the blanket and giving her the bottle of water.

He stayed with the little girl while the masked man and police dealt with Fells, keeping her distracted by letting her know she did the right thing in calling him, and telling her how brave she was being. He had no idea how much time went by, but his musings to Alyx were interrupted by Fells’ voice shouting obscenities at him.

“You bastard! You gave me a defective kid!” he shouted, struggling against the officer’s hold on him. “I’ll have my guys on your ass by morning, Edgar! You better-” his voice was cut off by the door to the cruiser closing, and Ed watched as the car drove away.

“Well, at least Packer’s in custody,” a familiar voice mused behind Ed. He turned to see the masked man from earlier standing there. “I uh, wanted to say sorry, for earlier, you know? Packer has a habit of changing his appearance to slip by authorities, and I just thought you were him.”

“I get it,” Ed replied, shrugging. “She called me, told me the stuff he’d been doing. If it’d help any, I can get the recording of the call to you or the cops or someone.”

“That’d be a great help,” the masked man replied. “Silver Shepherd, by the way,” he finally introduced, offering a hand for Ed to shake.

“Ed Edgar,” Ed replied, firmly shaking Silver’s hand.

“So, are you related to her, or what?”

“No, no. Alyx was one of the kids in my care. God, I can’t believe he slipped through our system. She was doing so well, too, god knows what this’ll do to all that progress.”

“What do you mean?”

“From what we can tell, she’s selectively mute. It’s linked with anxiety. She was starting to do well in managing her anxiety and starting to talk more. Hasn’t said a word since she called, though. Guess we’ll have to wait and see.”

Silver nodded, looking down when he felt a slight tug on his cape. He knelt down in front of Alyx, who stood there hugging the blanket Ed brought around her body.

“Hello, there,” he greeted, keeping his voice calm and smiling at the girl. “What’s your name?”

The young girl signed the letters of her name,  _ “A-L-Y-X” _ .

Silver looked up to Ed, silently asking for the man to translate. Ed chuckled, kneeling beside the hero and the girl. “Alyx.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Alyx.”

_ “Are you a superhero?” _ Alyx signed. Ed translated for Silver.

“I am.”

_ “Is he going to come back?” _

“Not as long as I have a say in it. He won’t be hurting anyone ever again, especially you.”

_ “Promise?” _

“I promise.”

_ “Thank you.” _

“You’re welcome.”

Silver and Ed stood when an officer approached, and offered to take Alyx in his car. After a short conversation, with Ed finding that this particular officer was affiliated with his business, Ed allowed it, knowing that the girl would be safe. He ruffled her hair lightly, and leaned against the side of his truck as he watched the officer put the girl in his car and drive away.

“You really should learn ASL, you know,” Ed mused, not bothering to look towards Silver.

“I know, I know. After this, I’m going to buckle down and learn it,” Silver replied.

“So, Fells wasn’t his real name?”

“Nope. Norman Packer, actually runs an organized crime ring in the city. Had a ton of aliases he’d go by, made it hard to track him down. Police got a 9-1-1 call not long before you and I got here. Must have been Alyx calling. A little girl might’ve just led to the fall of one of the city’s major crime rings without saying a word.”

“Maybe.”

“You know you’re probably going to have to go into hiding, right? Once word gets out, Packer’s goons’ll be all over you.”

“Yeah, I expected as such.”

“I know a place you could go. I live there, too, actually. Pretty nice, plenty of space, they sure as hell wouldn’t think to look there.”

“Give me the details and I’ll be there in the morning.”

Silver nodded, taking off his large gloves while Ed pulled a pen and notepad from the glove box in the truck. The hero wrote down what Ed needed to know, and handed the pad and pen back over. After a final goodbye, they parted ways, with Silver once again taking to the skies and Ed heading home to pack his things. He’d be laying low for a bit, but he knew Alyx was safe, and that made it all worth it.


	12. Bing

Saying he was scared would have been the understatement of the century.

He didn’t want to die.

His mind had gone blank at some point; all he was focused on was getting away from that scrap yard. He had half a mind in that very moment to make sure he at least still had his charging cable in his pocket, silently thanking whatever God might be out there that he did. After that, he kept running, as fast and as far as he could go. Eventually, he was forced to stop, his battery dangerously low. He simply decided to stop by the end of a long driveway, hoping that maybe he might somehow gain some energy from sitting in the sun.

The next thing the android knew, he was surrounded by programmers. Every single one was calling him faulty, broken, saying that he was the default nobody cared about.

Then suddenly, it all stopped. Everything was silent. The android spotted his battery icon in the top left corner of his vision, blinking with a small lightning bolt beside it, indicating that he was charging. After a minute, his visual systems came online. He found that he wasn’t outside anymore, it looked like he was in some sort of office, though it wasn’t the same sort of office he was originally made in. It wasn’t sterile and white; this area was actually sort of cozy, with beige walls, various desks and drafting tables, and various shelves full of computer parts, gears, tools, and all sorts of other things with which to tinker.

“I think he’s awake, you guys,” a voice stated. The android spotted a man in blue jeans and a bright yellow shirt walking into his field of view.

“Already?” another voice questioned, as a man in a blue shirt with a faintly glowing white G on the front approached.

“Mm-hm!”

“Isn’t that the logo for the Bing engine?” a third voice asked, this one belonging to a man in a red shirt with the same white G on the front.

“It is. Supposedly Microsoft has also been developing an android in order to compete with us,” the man in blue replied, stepping closer to Bing.

“Host said he’s another Ego,” a fourth man chimed in. He still looked like the other three, though he was sporting a green shirt with the same G on the front.

“ _ Perfect, _ ” the man in blue spat, clearly intending for his statement to be sarcastic.

Bing still wasn’t up to say anything in his own defense; his battery was still too low to allow him to function properly. He was only able to watch as the others observed him, occasionally exchanging comments about how he didn’t seem as advanced as they were, or how he seemed to be in rough condition, covered in scuffs, scratches and dents. Eventually, the android allowed himself to slip into sleep mode, hoping that he would be able to get more information when he was fully charged. Until then, he could only hope that he would be kept around; he didn’t want to be abandoned and alone again.


	13. Eric, Derek, and Reynolds

Derek was pulling Eric along, keeping a too-tight grip on his son’s wrist as the young man stumbled in his attempt to keep up with his father. Reynolds, meanwhile, followed the pair, having to hurry as well in order to keep up with Derek’s brisk pace.

The three finally stopped outside the studio where they were supposed to record a handful of ads for Derek’s charity merch warehouse. Derek let go of his son’s wrist as they entered the lobby of the studio, approaching the desk with his usual sleazy swagger. After talking to the woman at the desk, the man motioned for his son and employee to follow him to the elevator that would bring them up to the proper floor of the building.

Eric filed into the elevator with Reynolds, following his father as he kept his eyes fixed on the ground and fidgeted with his yellow handkerchief. He was silent as the elevator climbed, not daring to say anything.

Reynolds also remained silent; he knew Derek had a habit of lashing out, and he would rather not be on the receiving end of one of his fits. He’d heard the man scream at other employees, and he didn’t blame most of them for leaving not long after each incident. There were only two reasons Reynolds was still working for the man. For one, his son needed  _ someone  _ to be there to keep things from getting out of hand; if Derek was bad as a boss, he could only  _ imagine  _ how bad the man was as a father behind closed doors. Aside from that, his usual source of income was spotty during the colder months; most construction projects were done during the warmer months, while they slowed or even stopped when it got too cold. He  _ needed  _ the income from this job. Sure, he was getting paid minimum wage while putting in enough hours to nearly qualify as a full-time employee, but at least he had  _ some  _ money coming in on a regular basis.

“We have a limited amount of time up here, you two,” Derek stated, pulling Reynolds from his thoughts and making Eric jump at the sudden break in the silence. “We won’t have time to do three, four, five takes of something. Either don’t fuck up, or you keep going if you do.”

“G-got it, D-D-Dad,” Eric stuttered, still unable to look up at his father.

“Got it,” Reynolds confirmed, nodding.

The elevator stopped, and the three stepped out. Reynolds and Eric followed Derek down the hall, and eventually through one of the doors, into the space they were being allowed to use. It was fairly small, with the camera equipment and green screen already set up, and microphones ready to be used.

The next few hours didn’t exactly go smoothly. Eric was a nervous wreck, having not been given time to prepare for being in front of the camera, and  _ clearly  _ not wanting to be in front of the camera in the first place. Reynolds had no clue what he was doing, but did his best to at least give Derek something he could use, even if it was shoddy work; it was Derek’s fault for giving barely a few hour’s notice, anyways. Derek himself was the only one who seemed comfortable in front of the camera, even though he did end up going off on the occasional tangent, which usually included mostly passive aggressive comments concerning his son.

Once they had wrapped everything up, the three left. Reynolds lingered with the Dereksons as long as he was able, until he eventually had to head back to his apartment. He could only hope that Eric would be alright on his own.

Several days later, following the launch of the ads they had recorded, Derek called Reynolds and Eric into his office. They had gotten a call that someone wanted to talk business with Derek, and so the man gathered up his son, one of the few employees he had left, and a handful of examples of their merchandise to show off, and the three got in the car to go meet with whoever had contacted Derek.

The three pulled up to a manor, just in time for Derek’s car to die on them. Figuring it was just the continuation of an issue he’d had with the vehicle since he bought it, Derek simply shrugged it off, leading his son and Reynolds up to the door and ringing the doorbell. The door was opened shortly after by a man wearing a set of jeans, cowboy boots, a white buttoned shirt, grey suspenders, and a cowboy hat and dark glasses.

“You must be Derek Derekson,” the man observed, extending a hand to the man on the other side of the doorway.

“I am!” Derek confirmed, firmly shaking the man’s hand. “And this is my son, Eric, and one of my employees, Reynolds Voorhees.”

“Ed Edgar,” the cowboy introduced. “I work with Dark, he’s the one who contacted you.”

“I see.”

“Come on in, I’ll bring the three of you up to the meeting room. Dark’s probably already there.”

“Lead the way.”

Ed nodded, letting the three men inside and leading them up the stairs and down a hall. It felt as if they were all going far deeper into the manor than should have been possible, though nobody spoke up as they arrived at the glass door of the meeting room. The instant the door was opened, Eric flinched, reacting strongly to the high pitched ringing that filled the meeting room. Derek merely rolled his eyes at his son’s reaction, grabbing his wrist and pulling the younger man inside, with Reynolds following close behind, and Ed trailing behind them. After holding the door for a fifth person to enter, Ed finally stepped into the room, pulling the door shut behind himself.

“Gentlemen,” a man in a black suit addressed. “Please, take a seat.”

All five men took a seat at the table. Ed sat to Dark’s left, while the man who had entered with him, who wore a tan trench coat and bandages over his eyes, sat to Dark’s right. Reynolds sat on the left side of the table, leaving an empty chair between himself and Ed. Derek pulled Eric to the right side of the table, leaving an empty chair between himself and the man in the coat, and having Eric sit at his right, the farthest from Dark on that side, subtly - yet  _ not  _ so subtly - isolating his son from the others.

The meeting was tense, to say the least. Derek would often attempt to dominate the conversation, which would result in Dark snapping just enough to shut the man up for a few minutes, and causing Eric to not so subtly jump or flinch every time. Reynolds silently tried to help Eric remain calm, unable to do much from across the table, and his efforts didn’t go unnoticed by Ed, who had been keeping a close eye on Derek the entire time. The man in the coat mumbled under his breath the entire time, occasionally speaking up to put in a word of his own before going back to his narrations.

By the end of the meeting, Derek was clearly  _ just  _ managing to hide the fact that his blood was starting to boil. Everything wrapped up, and Derek was quick to get up, pulling his son up with him and practically dragging him towards the door. Reynolds was slower to stand, hoping that one of the other men in the room would speak up.

“Derek Derekson suddenly stopped in his tracks, feeling that something was not quite right,” the man in the tan coat stated. “It felt as if he was rooted to the ground, though that was not the only thing he felt. His right hand felt as if it were burning, and he was forced to release his grasp on his son in favor of clutching his hand in pain.”

Reynolds watched as Derek was forced to stop in his tracks, and let go of Eric’s wrist, clutching his hand to his chest as he cursed. Ed stood from his seat while Derek was distracted, carefully grasping Eric’s arm and guiding him away from his father as he watched everything unfold. Before anyone could get their wits about them to say anything, Derek was suddenly gone.

“W-w-where did h-he go?” Eric stammered, surprisingly being the first to break the silence.

“No need to worry. I dropped him somewhere in New Jersey,” Dark stated, seeming very nonchalant, considering the situation. “No harm has come to him. But, without a vehicle or any of his identification or other cards, it will take him quite a bit of time to get back here. We won’t have to worry about him for a while.”

“Without his cards?” Reynolds chimed in, raising an eyebrow in curiosity.

A low chuckle came from Ed, and the cowboy held up his left hand, silently revealing that he had a very familiar wallet in his possession. He set it on the table, sliding it across the smooth surface and into Dark’s waiting hand. From there, the wallet was slipped into the pocket of Dark’s suit jacket.

“Good work, Host,” Dark praised, finally standing from where he sat at the head of the table.

“It was the Host’s pleasure,” Host replied. “His Visions of the things Derek Derekson would do were deeply disturbing, he is relieved to know that they will not come to pass.”

“You-you’re b-bleeding…” Eric stammered. He moved away from Ed, shifting closer to Reynolds’ side.

“Head down to Dr. Iplier’s, Host,” Dark sighed. “I would rather you not bleed out. And take Eric with you, he should be evaluated, as well. Ed, take Reynolds to his room so that he can settle in.”

“If it’s all the same to you, I’d rather go with Eric,” Reynolds protested.

“Very well,” Dark replied, beginning to make his way out of the room. He paused in the doorway, “Rest assured, you two, everything will be explained in time,” he stated, before turning to look at the two new Egos over his shoulder. “For now, though, allow me to be the first to welcome you home.” With that, Dark left the room.

Ed and Host lead Eric and Reynolds back downstairs, bringing them to Dr. Iplier’s office. Nobody said a word the entire way there, though even though there was much  _ to  _ be said, none of it  _ needed  _ to be said at that moment; the absence of Derek instantly left everyone feeling more relaxed. With Derek out of the picture for the time being, Eric and Reynolds could focus on other things.

What Reynolds didn’t know at the time, was that for the first time in his life, Eric felt  _ safe _ .


	14. Captain Magnum

Another island, another treasure nowhere to be found. It shouldn’t have gotten to him as much as it did, yet there he was, empty handed, watching as land came into view once again.

Maybe he should take a break from it all, try something new. He’d been thinking about it for a while, now, anyways; maybe this was the time to do it.

Magnum disembarked from his ship, bidding farewell to his remaining crew, before simply remaining by the docks for a time, thinking. What should he try? He’d never thought that far ahead when it came to the subject. Figuring a drink might help him to clear his head, the large man made his way towards one of the pubs by the docks he’d found he enjoyed. He entered the pub, pulling off his hat and ducking down as he did, knowing that he couldn’t stand at his full height inside. The captain didn’t need to say a thing to the tapster, a simple exchange of nods was all that was needed as he made his way to his usual seat, away from most of the other patrons. Even being the social person he was, Magnum knew to give others a bit of space, so as not to crowd them or cause any issues.

In truth, when he was in a more somber mood such as this, the captain liked to simply people-watch. It was always interesting to see what people did, to see what patterns emerged in their behaviors. He gave the tapster a friendly smile and nod when he brought over his drink, the large vessel that contained it was set on the table before him, and he went back to watching the other patrons.

There were the usual regulars, different pirates like himself, a handful of mercenaries, some dock workers, all people he recognized. His gaze fell to one, though, that he didn’t. The man had on dark brown pants, a yellow shirt, pink bowtie, and striped suspenders, and had a pink mustache; the entire look made him stand out among everyone else in the pub. Magnum tried to keep it from being too obvious that he was watching the man, though he was approaching him, anyways, a glass in hand.

“Mind if I join you?” the pink man asked, looking up at the captain.

“Go right ‘head,” Magnum replied, motioning to one of the other chairs. He watched the smaller man sit out of the corner of his eye as he took a swig of his drink.

“A pirate?” questioned the pink man.

“Aye. And you?” Magnum replied, shifting a bit to be facing the other man.

“I’m an interviewer, a reporter, of sorts,” the bowtie wearing man responded. “Even got my own show,  _ Warfstache Tonight _ .”

“Sounds interestin’,” the captain mused.

“It’s fun, so long as my interviewees don’t fall asleep in the middle of our chats,” the man in pink chuckled. He then became a bit more serious, watching as Magnum took another swig of his drink. “You seemed a bit glum when I spotted you.”

“Aye, suppose you’re right,” Magnum replied. “Ye know when things just don’t work out, time and time again? That’s what I been dealing with.”

“Maybe it’s time you try something new, then. Get away from it all.”

“I was thinkin’ the same thing.”

“I think I can help you with that.”

Magnum looked to the smaller man, tilting his head in question. He watched as the pink man finished off his drink, giving the tapster a whistle as he pulled out the money to pay for his own drink, as well as Magnum’s, indicating to the man at the bar that his payment was waiting. The captain finished his own drink, grabbed his hat, and followed the suspender-wearing man out of the pub.

“I would take a breath and hold it. The shock can do some strange things to people,” the smaller man stated, speaking a bit quickly with his slurred accent which Magnum couldn’t quite place.

“What’re ye on about-” he began to ask, before he felt the smaller man grip the end of his coat. He watched as the man snapped his fingers and in a flash, found himself standing outside a manor, rendered speechless.

“Come on! You said that you needed a change of pace, this is your chance!”

Magnum couldn’t help but chuckle. He followed the pink man inside, figuring he didn’t have anything to lose. He  _ did  _ want to try something new, after all, and this  _ certainly  _ fit the bill.


	15. Illinois

Monkey Heaven had been an interesting experience, but Illinois was already looking for a new adventure. He was  _ always _ on the hunt for a new adventure, honestly. When he got a lead on an old manor from the 1800’s with a mysterious background, known to be the last place an actor, a colonel, a mayor, a district attorney, and the mayor’s sister were all seen back in the 1920’s, he simply couldn’t pass up the opportunity to snoop around.

So, after a long, heavily delayed flight, fighting through a packed airport, spending another ten minutes trying to find his cab in the busy pickup area, and sitting through a half hour drive, Illinois was finally able to pay the driver, pull his bags out of the cab, and take a look at the manor. The sight took his breath away.

The grounds were expansive, and it was clear that someone lived there, with how well taken care of the lawn and garden were. The manor itself was impressive, too. The architecture alone was unique for the area; you didn’t often see more rounded structures with turrets in the states.He took in the sight of the manor as he made his way up the driveway and towards the front steps. Once most of the building was out of his immediate sight, it finally hit Illinois just how tired he was.

He wasn’t just tired, the adventurer was  _ exhausted. _

He rang the doorbell and waited, hoping that the response would be quick, so he could get inside, shower, and  _ sleep _ for a while. A moment later, there was a man at the door. He wore a well-fitting suit with a deep purple tie and matching pocket square, glasses, and had his hair slicked back, with a bit of it falling just out of place, though it looked like it was still intentional. Upon closer inspection, Illinois could see the light shining off his hair, tinted purple, making it clear that the man also had glitter in his hair.

“You must be the guy Host was rambling about this morning,” the man stated, motioning for Illinois to enter.

“I don’t know about anyone called  _ Host _ , but I was contacted by someone who went by  _ Green _ ,” Illinois stated. “Well, not him directly; he got ahold of one of my usual contacts, and they got ahold of me. Anyways, name’s Illinois, pleasure to meet me,” he clarified, offering his hand to the glittery man.

“Bim Trimmer, game show host extraordinaire,” the suit-wearing man stated, taking Illinois’ hand and shaking it. “You look beat. I’ll bring you upstairs.”

“Thanks. Been a long few weeks,” he mused, following Bim towards the stairs. “It was worth it, though. Did some good, got some nice pictures, too.”

“Sounds like a good trip.”

“It was. But it’s exhausting work.”

“Sounds like it.”

Illinois followed Bim up the stairs and down the hall, stopping at a door to a room on the right hand side.

“Get cleaned up, get some rest, all that. I’ll let Dark and the others know you’re here, and let them know not to bug you for a bit,” Bim offered.

“Thanks,” Illinois simply stated, watching Bim head down the hall. He then entered his room, shutting the door behind himself and simply dropping his bags by the desk.

After stripping off his clothes on the way to the bathroom attached to his bedroom, Illinois took a hot shower, washing away the dust, dirt, and whatever else had built up on him over the last couple of weeks, savoring the hot water. Once he was clean, he pulled on a set of underwear and a pair of sweatpants, before simply plopping onto his bed, not even bothering to get under the covers. He’d worry about exploring the grounds later; for now, he just needed a nap.


	16. Yancy

Yancy wasn’t sure if what he was doing was right for himself. He’d been in prison for years, at this point. He was  _ supposed  _ to be there after what he did. But that didn’t keep him from questioning things after his first visit since he’d been locked up.

It had been November seventeenth. The visitation block was almost up, and as usual, Yancy hadn’t had anyone come to talk with him. That led him to be rightfully surprised when a guard came, saying that there was someone waiting for him. He was led to the visitation space, and directed to the last phone in the line. When he got there, he found a man he didn’t recognize. The man wore a crisp white suit with a black shirt and dark red tie, and was waiting for him with his hands folded on the small counter that was in front of him.

Their meeting had been fairly short. Yancy was told to call the suited man ‘Dark’, and he was given the offer of a place to go. His history wouldn’t matter to them; he’d have a place to be, freedom, and a family. It had been tempting, to say the least. As much as Yancy argued that he enjoyed being in prison, he still had that little voice in the back of his head telling him that he was lying to himself.

He hadn’t been able to decide. Dark stated that he would be back in December, and see if Yancy had an answer then.

December visitation came, and Dark kept his word, arriving around the same time he had before.

This time, Yancy had an answer for him.

The next time the chance came up, he’d fill out his parole forms.

Dark had seemed pleased, and given Yancy a number to call if things worked out. The inmate took down the number, and chatted with Dark until visitation wrapped up. The man left, and Yancy was brought back to his cell.

Weeks went by, turning to months. Every third Sunday, Dark would come and check in with him. Yancy actually looked forward to visitation days. In the lead up to the next parole opportunity, he cleaned up his act. He helped out in the kitchen, broke up fights without getting violently involved, himself, generally stopped causing trouble, for the most part, all in the hopes that it would improve his chances of getting out.

He submitted his forms when the time came to do so, and waited. When his forms were accepted, he went to his hearing, putting on his best attitude and hoping it would be enough.

The warden called him to his office to personally tell him that he had been granted parole.

Yancy couldn’t tell if his heart was racing or if it had stopped as he prepared to leave. He called Dark to tell him the news, and the man had given a soft chuckle, stating that he would be there to get him.

The now-former inmate found himself frozen when he got to the final set of doors that separated him from freedom. Was he even ready? He felt the hand of one of the guards on his back. There wasn’t any force behind it, just a comforting gesture. He took a deep breath, and stepped forward, walking through the doors.

He spotted Dark right away; he’d become used to seeing his face, and his gaze was drawn in instantly. Yancy made his way over, and Dark congratulated him, before leading him out. Dark led him to a car that was waiting outside, with another man inside it.

Yancy climbed into the back seat of the car, and watched as Dark and the man driving shared a quick kiss. The former inmate’s mind was racing as they drove away, and eventually pulled up to a large manor.

Yancy’s thoughts were still racing as he was led inside, and shown to his room. He was overwhelmed by everything; the new sights, the various people he had already come across entering the manor, and Dark had told him that there were still more who he hadn’t seen yet. Yancy was rendered silent by it all, finding it hard to process everything.

Once he was in his room, Yancy simply sat on the bed, letting himself fall back onto the soft mattress. He’d go out and try to meet the others in a bit. For now, he needed to get his bearings, let his mind settle. Dark had said himself that there was no rush, this was a new beginning for him, after all.


End file.
